


I’ll Crawl Home to—

by AmphitriteMists



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Dimension Travel, Explosives, F/F, GunJon!, Hill Top Road Shenanigans, Hurt, Hurt No Comfort, I don't fix what's broken I just hurt in different ways, M/M, No beta we kayak like kings, Season 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 07:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30001377
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmphitriteMists/pseuds/AmphitriteMists
Summary: Annabelle Cane offers Martin a way to save the world, but it comes with a price. (I've had a lot of theories about how The Magnus Archives would end, so rather than let them go to waste, I decided to turn some into fics. Enjoy.)
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Chapter 1

Martin was sitting across from Annabelle Cane who was holding a tape recorder in her hands. A steaming cup of dark red tea sat in front of him. At least, he hoped it was tea.

When he followed Annabelle to Hill Top Road, he expected the place to look a lot scarier. On the outside, it looked like any old house. Some of the window panes were slanted, the grass was in need of a trim, and when they climbed the rickety steps onto the front porch, the floorboards released audible groans. But there weren’t any dead body parts laying around as far as Martin could tell, and there weren’t any giant spiders (Annabelle not included) welcoming them in. Frankly, this was one of the better settings he’s visited during the apocalypse.

There were a lot of spider webs, though. In fact, when they stepped into the parlor, Annabelle added another coating of spider webs over the only exit before setting Salesa’s camera down in the corner of the room. Martin was beginning to feel like a fly caught in a web, but he tried to remain calm. If Annabelle wanted to hurt him, she had plenty of chances.

He picked up the cup and, after carefully sniffing it to make sure he wasn’t about to drink blood, he took a cautious sip. The flavor was tart, and Martin made a face. He reached for the sugar and started adding in a few spoonfuls before taking another sip. He let out a satisfied sigh. “Where did you get this?”

“The Lonely opened up an endless supermarket nearby,” Annabelle said with a shrug. “It’s proven to be a very resourceful way to get supplies. They didn’t have many flavors, though, so I grabbed the first one that looked good: hibiscus and ginger. Glad you like it.”

Martin nodded and took another sip. “So? Are you going to tell me why I’m here or…?”

She stared at him for a minute like she was trying to assess what her next move should be. Finally, she set the tape recorder on the table and let out a heavy sigh. “I wanted to fill you with spiders, but the Mother won’t let me.”

Martin gulped. “Right… so I’m just going to ignore that first comment. What does the Web want with us? What’s its big plan to save the world? You lured me here, telling me that you had a plan that would solve everything and keep me and Jon alive, so why won’t you explain it?”

Annabelle shook her head. “Because you won’t like what I have to say. It would require you to trust me completely.”

“Yeah, well, can you blame me? You’re not giving me much reason to trust you.”

“This house,” Annabelle started. “It’s unlike any other place in this world.”

“Uh huh I’ve got that impression,” Martin snorted, “I’ve actually had to file a couple of statements about this place. You spider types are not very subtle.”

“Its irregularities are not entirely the Web’s fault, Martin,” Annabelle continued. “We only adopted this house because we realized its potential.”

“Which is?”

“A way to travel to new worlds.”

Martin frowned. “Wait, hold on, are you suggesting this place can cross universes?”

“More than that.” Annabelle chuckled. “I’m saying this place is a gateway to other dimensions. Walk through the right door, fall through the crack, and you could end up in an exact replica of this world only without the nasty apocalypse.”

“But… this doesn’t exactly fix anything,” Martin huffed. “Jon and I can’t just abandon everyone here it would be wrong. You promised a way to fix this world not escape from it.”

“And I was being honest. I’m not asking you to take your boyfriend on a pleasant vacation. I’m saying that one of you can hop to another dimension and bring the fear gods with them. Minimize their powers.”

“Jon,” Martin said.

“Or you,” Annabelle added.

“Me?”

Annabelle sighed. “The Web requires someone who has been touched by all the fears. Jonah Magnus and the Panopticon are what keeps the Eye in control of everything in this world, but, as people marked by all thirteen fears, you and Jon are what anchor the fear gods here. Jon more so than you because he summoned them. 

But the fears flow through you too, Martin. You and Jon both fit that criteria thanks to your little hike to the Panopticon, though I must say, you survived your fair share of fear encounters even before that. If you leave this world, a large part of them will have to follow.”

Martin blinked. This was a lot to take in. “And I can survive that? All those fears clinging to me as I fall into an interdimensional portal?”

“You’ll live because you’ve experienced them all before,” Annabelle assured him. “Think of it as a supernatural vaccine. It’ll still be an unpleasant experience, but you’ll survive. The journey won’t even take long, but then time is a construct. However, there’s no guarantee you’ll return. You may never see anyone from this dimension again. Even if you make it back, there’s no telling what time period you’ll fall into.”

“But what about Jon?” Martin asked. “Can’t we go together? We promised—”

“And that was a very adorable thing for the two of you to do, but no. One of you has to stay here. If the two of you travel together, you might bring the full power of the fear gods with you. You wouldn’t want to pass on the apocalypse to another world, hmm?”

Martin was silent. In truth, he wouldn’t mind being in another apocalypse if Jon was by his side, but being responsible for the destruction of another world? That wasn’t exactly great. They’ve already caused enough damage to this one, and it didn’t seem fair to pass it on.

“The fear gods will never be truly gone or harmless,” Annabelle continued. “But if they’re brought to another dimension, the entities will revert to their original forms or become a small part of a similar entity that already exists there. It will take centuries before the fear can regain the same strength they have now.”

“Right,” Martin said, rolling his eyes. “Easy. Nice and simple. So why me? Why not kidnap Jon? He’s the Archivist, the chosen one. I’m… I’m nobody.”

Annabelle shook her head. “Kidnapping Jon was an option. The Web thought it had a firm grasp on him because we were the first ones to leave our mark, but, unfortunately, he’s too wrapped up in the Eye now to give us the time of day. And admittedly, we may have traumatized him too early. Nothing I say will ever get him to trust a spider.”

“But you,” Annabelle said, examining him. “You’ve always liked us. You’ve always understood the Web and what it does. The Mother has seen the way you effortlessly convince people to do exactly what you want. You always do whatever it takes, and you’ll do it now. You don’t want Jon to die, and you want to save the world. This is the solution.”

“Yeah, except I won’t be able to see him again,” Martin said. He hated how his words came out like a whine. After all the suffering he’s seen on the walk to London, he knew there were worse things than losing the man he loved. Staying here now would be a selfish decision. Annabelle was right. This was the perfect solution, so why was he hesitating?

The table began to shudder, spilling drops of tea onto the white table cloth. Annabelle stood up. “Any minute now. After centuries of waiting, it’s finally ready.”

“Hang on, are you coming with me?”

“I have no reason to stay. Besides, the Archivist will have his heart set on killing me for leading you here, and the Web won’t have enough power to protect me from his wrath. I’d better try my luck with interdimensional travel.”

“Fine. Where is this portal anyway?” Another loud noise shook through the house.

“Under our feet,” Annabelle said. Martin’s eyes widened, and he folded his legs onto the chair as if that would make a difference. “When the floor opens up, we’ll be sucked into another world. ”

Martin’s eyes darted around the room looking for anything he could use to escape. On the bright side, the floorboard didn’t seem in danger of breaking anytime soon, but that was probably due to the powers of the camera. “Annabelle, I agreed to come here and listen to what you had to say. I thought we were going to talk about this. Is this why you covered the doorway in spiderwebs so I couldn’t escape anyways. What happened to free will?”

“You chose to follow me, and you chose to do nothing while I put the webs over the door.”

“That’s because you didn’t— agh forget it! I can’t do this, Annabelle! I have to talk to Jon!” 

“Why? So he can talk you out of it?”

“No, because, if I have to leave, he deserves to know why.” The floor released another shudder, and Martin was beginning to wonder how much the camera could actually do. “Damn it, Annabelle! Let me go!”

“Sorry. I can’t,” she said. She was beaming now as she brushed her hand over the webbing on the doorway. “The material is wonderfully sturdy when there’s enough of it.”

“Martin!” Someone shouted from the other side of the wall.

“And it will keep pests from coming in and disturbing what needs to be done.”

Martin rushed to the door, and Annabelle stepped aside. “Jon! I’m over here!”

“Martin? Martin!” There was relief in Jon’s voice, and Martin couldn’t help but mirror the feeling. Jon was here, and they could sort everything out.

“Can you blast through the webs with your Eye powers?” Another voice said.

Martin blinked in surprise. “Wait, is that Basira? You found her?!”

“Long story,” Jon said. “And once again, Basira, that’s not exactly how this works. Just because I killed Helen doesn’t mean I can blast anything I find annoying.”

“You could try,” Basira said.

There was a pause. “Right,” Jon said, finally. “Step away from the webs.”

Martin scrambled to the side, and there was a series of loud popping noises.

“Were those gunshots?” Martin asked incredulously.

“What was that going to do, Jon?” Basira asked.

A strong wind blew through the parlor, and the floorboard started to stretch upwards. Through the cracks, Martin could see blinding flashes of purple light. They were running out of time.

“Jon…”

“Martin, I’m going to get you out of there just hold on!”

“Jon, listen to me!”

“What? What is it?”

“I need you to tell me if Annabelle is telling the truth.”

“About wha—” There was a pause. “Oh. I see. Martin, please don’t do this.”

“So it’s true then,” Martin said, sucking in a breath.

“What are you two talking about?” Basira asked.

They ignored her. There was no time to explain. Tears started to fall down Martin’s face, but he tried to sound brave when he spoke. “I love you, Jon, but this could be our one shot at saving the world, and I won’t let you sacrifice yourself.”

“So you’ll go instead? That’s not fair! Let me go. I’m the one who caused this, so I should be the one to fix it.”

“It’s not your fault,” Martin shouted. “God, you keep blaming yourself for everything, but I was there too. I gave you those statements without checking them first. You think I don’t feel guilty about what happened?”

Jon was silent, and Martin continued. “I’m used to being alone. It’s why Peter chose me for the Lonely. If someone has to travel to an unfamiliar world, then it should be me. I can handle this. You need to stay here with our friends. They’ll take care of you and I know you’ll take care of everyone, even when I’m gone because I’ve seen it, Jon. Time and time again you’ve risked yourself to help those around you and I refuse to believe the Eye has claimed that part of you.” 

“Martin, you can’t leave me here! Please! We’ll find another way!” But Martin already made up his mind. 

Annabelle held up a stick of dynamite. “Took it from the tunnels before coming to get you. You’d be surprised at all the places Gertrude Robinson hid explosives.”

She tossed it to Martin and he gave her a puzzled look. She sighed and nodded towards his pack. “Not long ago, we gave Jon the tool he would need for this moment, but it kept finding ways to cling to you instead.”

Martin dug through his bag and fished out a lighter with a web design. When he found it in the safe house, he wondered why Jon had kept it. He still remembered the day Breekon and Hope delivered it and how Jon integrated him afterward. If Jon assumed it was dangerous, why would he carry it with him everywhere? Deciding it was safe, Martin packed it into his own bag, in case they ever needed it. 

“It was planned all along, huh?” Martin said. From behind the web barrier, Jon was still shouting in protest.

“You wanted a choice, so here it is,” Annabelle said. “I won’t try to stop you, but if you destroy the cobwebs and run to him, there may not be another opportunity. The door needs to be opened now.”

He stared at the dynamite in his hand and gave one final glance at the door frame coated in webs. After the fears are brought to the other world, he’ll find a way back to this one. If Hill Top Road won’t take him back, he’ll find another portal. Nothing was impossible anymore. 

Martin lit the lighter and directed the flame over the dynamite. He gave it a gentle toss across the room. There was a moment of sudden stillness as it rolled to a stop next to the camera. He barely had time to close his eyes when the ground opened up beneath his feet, and he fell.


	2. Chapter 2

“Martin! Martin,” Jon shouted. The house was shaking uncontrollably, and he dodged a falling piece of wood. Gusts of wind swirled around him, filling his ears with a deafening howl.

A hand grabbed his arm and was dragging him towards the exit, away from Martin. “Jon, we have to get out of here,” Basira shouted over the noise.

“No! Let me go,” Jon shook her off and charged forward. “Martin!”

Basira grabbed him again and smacked him across the face. Hard. He stared at her in a daze. “Jon, look at me! He’s gone, and if we don’t get out of here, this whole place is going to collapse on us!”

Jon felt something tighten in his chest and found that it was getting harder to breathe. “No! He can’t be— we promised we’d figure this out together and if I have to rip another hole in this goddamn universe, so help me!” He pulled his arm free and kept screaming Martin’s name, begging the world to give him back.

Suddenly, the house stopped moving. Jon and Basira barely had time to steady themselves before an explosion knocked them off their feet. The world went black.

===

A tape recorder turned on with a gentle click as Jon’s eyes blinked open. He groaned. His ears were ringing from the blast. Every part of his body was sore, but he flipped onto his stomach and started crawling towards the old house. His mind didn’t even register that there was nothing there anymore.

He coughed. “Martin…”

His vision was blurred, but he made out a pair of feet slowly walking towards him.

“Jon?” The figure asked, “Everything’s going to be okay. Can you hear me?”

“Martin?” He croaked. Then, he passed out.

====

“How long?” Jon asked. He was in a hospital. The gentle hum of monitors and scurrying nurses filled the room. Basira was standing at the end of the cot with arms folded across her chest. She watched him with a hard expression on her face as Jon tried to swallow the dry hospital food.

“Three weeks,” Basira said. “Sorry to say you haven’t beaten your previous record. Doctor thinks she can let you out tomorrow if you’re sure you’re feeling better.”

“What happened?”

“Dunno. The last thing I remember was climbing up Hill Top Road with you. We had to do… something… something important. A bomb went off… I think. When I woke up, the old house was gone.”

“Gone?” Jon frowned.

“Yeah, it was really weird. Like whoosh,” Basira said, wiggling her fingers around. “There’s nothing there. I got up and found you lying on the grass. You passed out, of course, so I carried you to someplace safe and called the police. I heard they’re still looking into it, but if it has anything to do with the supernatural again we can’t expect them to find much.”

Jon nodded. He wasn’t too surprised. Hill Top Road had always been a strange place. 

“Do you remember why we were there, Jon?” Basira asked, a hint of hesitation in her voice.

Jon opened his mouth to speak but closed it when he realized he couldn’t see the answer. He racked his brain. He still had his Beholding powers and access to information he shouldn’t know at the top of his head. He still had a lot of his old memories. Times spent reading in his grandmother’s living room, his uni days with Georgie, and his job interview with Elias. He had memories of more recent events. Sasha’s disappearance, Tim’s death, and a safe house where he read a statement that— and the memory stopped. He tried to find the information using the Beholding, but his god revealed nothing.

“I don’t… I…” He started to stammer.

Then, he remembered. A gentle laugh. A second pair of hands brushing against his as he pets a fluffy brown cow. Those same hands setting down a cup of tea in front of a tall stack of paperwork. 

Jon’s eyes widened in a panic. “Basira, what happened to Martin?!”

Basira raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

“The… my…” Jon’s voice trailed off as he tried hard to recall who he was thinking of, but his mind was blank. There was only the vague impression that something was missing. “I’m sorry. I don’t know.”

Basira nodded, but disappointment was clearly etched on her face. “Right. I figured as much. Well, I brought some statements for you to eat, a couple of tapes too. I wasn’t sure which ones you’ve read already so I just grabbed whatever I could.”

“Oh thank you.” Jon smiled appreciatively. 

Basira got up and placed a plastic bag on the bedside table. “I’ll let Melanie and Georgie know you’re awake. They’ve been worried about you.”

“They’re okay?!” Jon asked, perking up again. “The Admiral? Is he safe?”

“Yeah,” Basira said. She was giving Jon a look of concern now. “Safe as they can be. Why?”

Jon frowned again. This wasn’t the first time the Eye withheld information from him. He remembered the time he tried knowing Peter Lukas’ plan a couple of months ago. But that time had been excruciatingly painful. Now, Jon was trying hard to grasp at the knowledge he was missing, but there was simply nothing there.

“I guess I’m worried, that’s all. Melanie sacrificed a lot to leave the Institute, and I’m curious as to how she’s adjusting.”

“She’s fine,” Basira shrugged. “Everyone’s fine. I’ll bring them both by tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” Jon said.

As soon as Basira left, Jon reached for the statements and the tape recorder. He found an unmarked tape and popped it in. Maybe, if he started feeding again, the memories would return.

===

“Statement of Jonathan Sims, regarding the empty patch of land on Hill Top Road. Recorded direct from subject June 10th, 2019. Statement begins.

“My therapist said I shouldn’t be using tape recorders anymore. She also said I shouldn’t visit Hill Top Road, but here I am. Why am I drawn to this place? Why can’t I move on? Basira was right. There’s nothing here, but a vacant plot of land where a house used to be. But something isn’t right.

“There’s a gaping hole in my memories. I don’t know why I was on Hill Top Road that day with Basira. Obviously, we were doing something for the Institute, but I can’t imagine what. And that’s not the only thing that’s odd. I can’t remember what I was doing before Hill Top Road. I know I was in a safe house in Scotland. Basira told me she lent me the place after I escaped the Lonely and the Institute was attacked. I’m not sure how I made it back to London and Basira wasn’t able to tell me either. I suspect her memory is a little hazy too, but she won’t admit to anything. If anything, she’s determined to brush off the incident entirely and focus on more important matters.

“We still haven’t found Daisy. The police aren’t even searching for her anymore. Basira is the only one still looking, but like me, she also has to find a new job. Elias is missing as well. The Institute, as a result, was disbanded. Melanie was understandably upset that she lost her eyesight for nothing, seeing as Basira and I were able to leave our posts at the Archives without any consequences. She doesn’t blame me too much, though. Therapy’s been good for her. Georgie too.

“Before leaving the Archives, I managed to take as many statements as I could. Hopefully, they can sustain me for a while until I can figure out a safer alternative to feed the Eye. I also took a few tape recorders. I haven’t told anyone because I didn’t want to worry the others, but every Thursday, a tape appears in my mailbox. I’ve been listening to each one, but they’re all statements I’ve read before. I’m not sure what any of it means, except… there’s one name that has popped up a few times: Martin.

“The tapes suggest that he worked at the Archives as one of my assistants, but I know Tim and Sasha were the only two people I requested. It took a few more tapes for me to learn that his last name was Blackwood. I checked with Rosie to see if she recalled anyone named Martin Blackwood, but she told me there was no record of anyone with that name working at the Institute. And with nothing but a voice to go off of, finding him has proven to be impossible. 

“I know he has something to do with my missing memories. If I can find him, maybe he can explain everything. Aside from the tapes, the only clue I’ve received in the mail was a poem written by a Martin Blackwood that lived in the 16th century. It reads:  
Are we to speak, first day of the week  
Stumbling words at the bar  
Beauty brown eyes, my order of fries  
Great England’s kindness and wine  
Beloved of Jon, I get it all wrong  
I read you for some kind of poem  
Covered in lines, the fossils I find  
Have they no life of their own?  
So can we pretend sweetly  
Before the mystery ends?  
I am a man with a heart that offends  
With its lonely and greedy demands  
There's only a shadow of me in a matter of speaking I'm dead  
Such a waste, your beautiful face  
Stumbling carpet arise  
Go follow your gem, your white feathered friend  
Icarus, point to the sun  
If history speaks of two apple teeth  
I'm painting the hills blue and red  
They said beware, Lord hear my prayer  
I've wasted my throes on your head  
So can we be friends, sweetly  
Before the mystery ends?  
I love you more than the world can contain  
In its lonely and ramshackle head  
There's only a shadow of me in a matter of speaking I'm dead  
I'm holding my breath  
My tongue on your chest  
What can be said of my heart?  
If history speaks, the kiss on my cheek  
Where there remains but a mark  
Beloved my Jon, so I'll carry on  
Counting my cards down to one  
And when I am dead, come visit my bed  
My fossil is bright in the sun  
So can we contend, peacefully  
Before my history ends?  
Jon I need you, be near me, come shield me  
From fossils that fall on my head  
There's only a shadow of me in a matter of speaking I'm dead

“I’m not a big fan of poetry, but I have to admit his work is good and strangely out of place for the 16th century. I did a little research on him, but there wasn’t much to find. History seems to have forgotten him completely. There’s no record of his birth or death, nothing to prove he was even alive, except for this poem and, possibly, the tapes.  
“I think… I knew him. It sounds crazy, but so has the last few years of my life. It’s confusing, missing someone I can’t even remember. At least with Sasha, the memories are there, only the face is changed, but with Martin? He’s a gaping hole in my head, and I find myself yearning for a ‘what could’ve been’ rather than a loss. I’ll continue to listen to the tapes, but I think everyone is right. It’s time I move on from the Magnus Archives. End recording.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! This is the first fanfic I ever made for the TMA fandom. I'm hoping I'll have time to make more because I have some ideas lined up. It's been so long since I've actually been this passionate and happy about writing something :)


End file.
